Bittersweet Confessions
by Whispered Desire
Summary: Just as she was about to make another argument, he took one step forward and kissed her. Before Elizabeth quite knew what was happening, her arms were around him, his around her, and she was kissing him back with all the ferocity she could muster. JE.


It sucks, but I've missed writing for this pairing. The title sucks even more. Sorry.

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Bittersweet Confessions

The year is 1726.

Nerves doesn't even begin to cover what Elizabeth Swann was feeling at that very moment in time. Never before had a door been so foreboding, and yet she stood there, absolutely terrified before the smooth mahogany. She willed herself to be brave, for she did not need further reason for Jack Sparrow to get under her skin.

Before she had a chance to change her mind and run, she opened the door and breezed into the Captain's Cabin. The door fell shut behind her with a loud noise, which was enough to catch the attention of the cabin's sole occupant. He sat behind his desk poring over a map, and glanced up at her entrance. An almost sinister smile crept onto his features as he grabbed a half-empty rum bottle and asked,

"Come to kill me again, Miss Swann?"

She flinched as his cold tone and felt her strength crumble in a matter of seconds. What a stupid idea, coming here to see him…there was no way to fix whatever there was between them that had been broken, he would see to that.

"Actually, no," she returned wearily, "but I can see that nothing good will come of me being here, so I'll leave you be."

When she did not move from her place, he smirked and put the bottle down. "I don't think you want to leave dearie, or you'd have been out of that door like a shot. Why did you come, if not to see to it that you murder me for good this time?"

She didn't answer, but dropped her eyes to the floor. "Stop talking about that."

He feigned a look of innocence and sat back in his chair, folding his hands across his lap. "Why should I? It's not like I can forget something like that as quickly as you can, Miss Swann."

"Stop calling me that," she ground out through gritted teeth. "And I'll have you know I will never _ever _forget what I did until the day I die! Do you think I didn't regret it the very _second _I did it? Do you think I _wanted _to kill you?"

Her anger seemed to capture his attention more fully, and he stood up, walked around his desk and stopped right in front of her seething figure. His eyes narrowed.

"If you didn't want to do it, why did you?" he challenged. "And don't give me any of that rubbish about how it was the 'only way' to save the crew. There were other ways and you know it."

She faltered at that.

"Tell me," he went on, leaning a little closer, "why was my compass 'broken' only for you? Where did it point?"

She averted her eyes. Surely to ask such a question he must already know the answer. She squared her jaw.

"You know damn well where it pointed, Jack Sparrow, so don't pretend you don't. And I can assure you," she hurried on, "it does _not _point there any more!"

To her surprise, he sneered at that. He suddenly stalked straight past her and over to a dresser in the corner of the room. She stood still, hardly daring to move. When he came back, he stopped behind her, where she could feel delicious heat radiating from his body. Before she had time to dwell on it, he'd shoved the damned compass unceremoniously into her hand.

"Prove it," he whispered hotly into her ear. She trembled, and if his light chuckle was anything to go by, he'd noticed.

Hands shaking, she flipped the compass lid open and watched as the red arrow spun around wildly. She held her breath, wondered briefly if he did too, and felt her heart stop as the arrow pointed cleanly to the place Jack was standing. She started breathing again as he walked in front of her again, the smile plastered on his face as smug as it was enchanting. Sure enough, the arrow followed his movement.

"OK, so it points to you still, but that does not mean a thing."

His hand was once again raised to her cheek, and it took a surprising amount of self-control for her not to faint. "Oh, it means everything, Miss Swann," he said, his tone indiscernible, smile faded slightly.

She blanched and stared at him, her mouth gaping slightly open. "You're in love with me," she stated, his odd behaviour around her since Tortuga making sense all of a sudden.

His hand dropped to her collarbone. "I didn't say that," he said lowly, in an almost threatening voice. His smile was gone altogether now.

"You didn't need to," she said, almost disbelieving. "You're not denying it either!"

"I am neither denying nor confirming it," he retorted, his face suspiciously blank.

Just as she was about to make another argument, he took one step forward and kissed her. Before Elizabeth quite knew what was happening, her arms were around him, his around her, and she was kissing him back with all the ferocity she could muster.

When they pulled apart, his face was still aggravatingly unreadable save for a frown, and she was having trouble getting her breathing back to normal. He seemed unhappy about something, as he stared at her like she was a puzzle he couldn't solve.

"Would you be happier," he started slowly, "if I denied it, or if I told you it was true?"

She hardly dared to breathe. His fear of rejection was only evident in his eyes, as his face remained a stony mask of indifference.

"I think," she began, "that you are a man who would do neither. Whatever you told me, it couldn't make a difference - you wouldn't let it. And I don't think I could walk away from you whatever you told me. So just…don't say anything."

He gave her a sad smile that almost tore her heart in two. He put his cheek to the side of her head, and she felt him breathing against her ear. His arms returned to their place around her waist.

"And why is that?" he asked. "Why wouldn't you be able to walk away?"

Her arms around his shoulders tightened a little as she tried to summon some strength; a confession such as this was neither light nor easy. And yet, it had to be done - he had to know.

"I love you," she whispered delicately. Her voice cracked and tears trickled down her cheeks while she was held so close, so gently by the man she really felt she belonged with. She clamped her eyes shut and held on even tighter, willing the world around them to fade away to nothing. Perhaps then they would be free to be together with no pretence, no hiding and no lies. Their story could have an ending.

His grip on her waist tightened. She felt him take a great shuddering breath and wondered whether he was fighting back tears of his own.

"Then stay with me," he replied quietly. If he was hiding his emotions, he was doing it well; his voice remained steady as a rock, and when he drew back, his eyes were perfectly dry. He raised one hand to her cheek and caressed it in the same way he had when there was light-hearted talk of curiosity, right before he went to kiss her.

"Stay with me, Lizzie," he repeated, his eyes boring deep into hers. For a moment, she was about to reply that her answer was, always had been and always would be that yes, she would stay. But when she closed her eyes, she heard Will telling her he loved her, and she painfully remembered she was already promised to another.

Slowly, she shook her head, gasping softly as more tears fell down her face. "I can't. Will, he…he's been too good to me, I can't just…I can't just leave him, it wouldn't be fair…"

"Pirate," was his answer to that, but there was no teasing lilt, no smirk filled with pride, only the longing in his tone that told her how much he wanted her, loved her. She could only imagine that surely this was what dying felt like; that there was no hope, no way out. One way or another, someone was going to get very seriously hurt.

"Jack, please," she pleaded, although she hadn't the faintest clue what she was asking for. Maybe he had an idea though, because he sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

"Tell me something," she whispered. "That day, when you proposed…did you mean it?"

She pulled back to look at him and saw him smiling. "When you said no, did _you _mean it?"

She gave a light smile in return. "I don't think I did. You scare me Jack. You make me feel things I'm not used to feeling. When you proposed, as completely un-romantic as it was, it made me feel better than when Will asked me to marry him. Because when you asked, it was _you _who asked."

Throughout her talking, his smile had turned sad again. He might not have said it aloud, but he had meant it when he'd asked her, and if she'd said yes, perhaps they wouldn't be in this mess.

"I'm sorry Jack," she said sincerely, "for everything. If I'd been brave, maybe all of this could have been avoided. I've hurt you, and I'm sorry. That was why I came here tonight - to tell you I was sorry. I couldn't go into a battle without having cleared things with you first."

She turned to leave then, but Jack grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"Lizzie, I know what's going to happen tomorrow. We're all going to be fine -" she scoffed at that, "- I will stab the heart, and you and Will are going to get married and live happily ever after. Just…let me ask something of you, OK?"

She nodded, his sad tone making it harder for her to keep her emotions in check. He averted her eyes.

"When you two have all your little ones, name one of them after me, would you?"

That was it, right there. Elizabeth's heart broke clean in two. To hear the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow sound so defeated was too much, and she pressed her lips to his in near desperation.

"Don't, Jack…don't say things like that," she protested meekly. "Things might turn out differently, and maybe we could -"

"Don't, Liz. Please," he whispered, gripping her tightly. "You should leave now before it gets to the point where I won't let you go."

She shook her head fiercely. "No, I'm not going anywhere. We have tonight, and I'll be damned if I walk out of here now without knowing what it could have been like."

She kissed him, and his argument flew out of the window.

--

The four months after that seemed a bit of a haze to Elizabeth, and she almost couldn't believe that she was standing in Tortuga, gazing up at the majestic Black Pearl once more. The men's clothes she was disguised in reminded her of the days she spent with Jack that seemed so long ago now, and although they were a little tighter on her now than they were then, they still felt better than the dresses she was forced into once upon a time.

To say she was terrified would be an understatement. If Jack rejected her and said she couldn't stay on the ship, she'd have nowhere to go. The house Will left her in had been near destroyed in a storm and she had no money to rent a room in a tavern because she had used it all to get to Tortuga in the first place. She just hoped that Jack would be ready to hear her out.

After speaking to Gibbs on deck, she decided to wait for Jack in his cabin. And, not quite knowing what she was doing, she discarded the clothes she'd come in and pulled on one of Jack's shirts and a pair of his breeches. It wasn't long before the man himself walked in, and his eyes widened when he saw the woman sitting behind his desk.

"I guess that's what Gibbs meant," he muttered, frowning. She glanced at him and quickly averted her eyes, suddenly embarrassed at herself.

"What did Gibbs say?" she asked quietly.

"That there was a rather beautiful surprise waiting for me in here," he grinned, overcoming his shock rapidly.

She blushed despite herself, holding back a grin of her own. She stood up and walked around to stop in front of him.

"I was wondering if I could -"

He was kissing her, his hands cupping the sides of her face and his lips moving against hers. He pulled back just as Elizabeth was overcoming her own surprise.

"I'm sorry, I know you're married an' all…" he said sheepishly, smirking at her ragged breath and flushed cheeks.

She seemed to disregard what he just said as she kissed him just as fiercely. Taking him by surprise, she pushed his coat back off his shoulders and it went unheard as it hit the floor.

He pulled her (his) shirt up over her head and ran his hands all over the exposed skin. He abruptly stopped kissing her and pulled back with a frown. She was about to complain, but then she noticed where his hands were. She bit her lip and put her hands over his.

"It could be yours," she whispered.

"Could be," he repeated blankly. She nodded, suddenly looking very scared.

"It could be Will's too, I was with him only the day after."

He raised an eyebrow at that, to which she protested, "It was to consummate our marriage! Nothing shameful about that, Jack."

Her comment seemed to sting. "Shameful? You're saying the night you spent with me was 'shameful'? Because we weren't married? Because simply being in love wasn't enough?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant! If I didn't lie with him then he would have been suspicious, would have asked me why, and what would I have told him? That I married him only because I had to, that while lying with him, I would be thinking of you?"

The sudden sight of tears in her eyes made Jack feel about a foot tall. He closed his eyes, muttering to her a much deserved, "I'm sorry, Lizzie."

"I want you to know something," she said quietly. "I don't know whose baby this is, but I want it to be yours, to be able to keep a part of you with me all the time. You don't have to want either of us, you could kick me off this ship right now. But I will raise this child like it's ours no matter what happens."

"Liz, I don't want you to leave the ship, now or ever. I never did. I…" he sighed, "I love you."

--

The year is 1736. Elizabeth Turner is standing on the cliff side, watching the waves curl up alongside the shore before they explode in a mass of foam. She feels as though she has been waiting for this day since only the day before, when in fact, she has been anticipating it for the past ten years.

She is not alone. The young boy beside her turned nine a few months ago, and Elizabeth is hard pushed to remember how she ever survived without him. He is waiting for the same person his mother is waiting for; the man he will call 'Father' until the Captain of the Flying Dutchman departs once more. Elizabeth knows better, as does the dark-haired pirate who is waiting for her back at the wrecked house she abandoned five months before her son was born.

She pulls her son closer as the sun sinks. Her son with black eyes.

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Review?

**WD,  
xo.**


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